A Meal
by Weegie
Summary: A meal so rudely interrupted.  Zelda/Ganon


The stone walls were thick with moss and some other kind of sludge she couldn't identify. Zelda preferred not to go near it if she could help it. Through the darkness and the damp and cold of the cell she willed herself to hold what little strength she had left, but it was difficult and the sustaining meals were few and far between.

This Ganondorf was a pedestrian sort of torturer, she thought. She smiled at the thought, though it was all she could spare. Pedestrian the method was, and it was most effective.

She pulled the woollen blanket closer to her face, suddenly aware of how cold her nose was, and leaned closer into the one piece of wall she had found that was accommodating. The cell itself was large and there was a draft from the open windows, which stood high and barred with iron. The shine of the moon was the only light she could perceive.

To keep herself sharp, Zelda kept time of how long she had been in the cell, and the frequency of the visits she received from her gaolers. The things that kept her locked away varied between grotesque monsters of shadow with dog-like faces, skeletons, or lizards. They did not utter a sound from their mouths but, not being graceful creatures, she could hear them shuffling down to her long before they ever reached her cell.

A slot in the wooden door to the cell provided food. Presented unceremoniously on wooden blocks or dirty metal plates, Zelda would taste everything before eating it whole. Born to wealth, she was unused to eating in such a way, yet her upbringing had given her the control to look past this simple hardship. Thus, she concerned herself with accidental food poisoning, which her extensive learnings had prepared her for, among a random assortment of other items. A strange thing indeed for a princess to learn, but Zelda had always been well-read.

Unfortunately, her last meal had been some time ago, according to Zelda's own calculations, and she was now beginning to worry that the plan was to starve her to death. It was then, as if having heard her thoughts, that she heard the familiar shuffling of one of the dog-like creatures, which she had heard once called a "moblin".

As the creature approached, Zelda was suddenly taken by the memory of Ganondorf's invasion of the castle. It had been about two weeks before, again as Zelda had calculated, just as the castle itself had sat down for the supper hour. While she was horrified by the following events, namely her father's murder and the conquering of her kingdom, Zelda had to admire how brutally simple it was for Ganondorf to attack when he did. He had known that Zelda's father reserved an hour for supper with his small family as the one time of day when he was most at ease. She recalled how the food, largely untouched, had been thrown about when the strange moblins and other creatures had entered the large dining hall, breaking down the large wooden doors like gingerbread.

It was at that moment, after his creatures had dashed the room to pieces, that Ganondorf had strolled in as easy as if he had been walking through a gentle field of wheat. Zelda, her father, and some retinue who had barricaded themselves in with the royal family, had backed themselves into a far corner of the room, surrounded by some menacing-looking creatures holding pointy spears caked in blood.

"Stand down, stand down," Ganondorf had said easily to the things, lightly waving a hand to them. "It would be a pity to get blood on the carpet."

The captives had remained still with shock for a long moment. Finally, the king began to speak.

"Who are you?" he had asked simply.

Ganondorf then looked around at what was left of the supper. "Now that is an excellent question," he had said to her father. "I am known as the King of Thieves by those who don't know any better."

At this point, Zelda had remembered a sad story involving a princess, a hero, and a King of Thieves, written long before their time. "Ganondorf," she had said quietly to herself.

"What was that?" Ganondorf had asked her, displaying an inhuman ability to pick up sound. "Sir, I believe your daughter knows who I am. Impressive, but not at all surprising."

Her father had turned to her incredulously and asked how she could possibly know such a usurper. She did not have time to ask. Ganondorf's attention was drawn to her and he moved through the small crowd of people, who parted out of fear, before reaching her.

Zelda's gaze had been brave and proud, just as she had been taught. It had locked on Ganondorf and it did not waver even as he stood, towering over her.

"You must be Zelda," Ganondorf had said knowingly with a sly smile that spoke many unpleasant things to her.

"What do you want, King of Thieves?" Zelda's father had asked. "How do you know my daughter?"

Ganondorf's concentration on Zelda had broken then only for a moment, which was long enough for him to raise a hand to his giant sword and cut the king down where he stood. It was only when the blood had hit Zelda's gown that the glamour of her fear got the better of her and she had faltered.

She had cried out and ran to him and, just as quickly, was caught by her waist by the King of Thieves. Like a doll, Ganondorf had thrown her over his large shoulder and barked an order to his creatures to sort out the healthiest servants to keep and to eliminate the rest.

In an undignified sort of way, Zelda had kicked and pounded on the man. Somewhere in her rational mind she had known that her fists and knees were no match for his thick metal armour. The only result had been a week's worth of bruises, which she had tried her best to nurse.

After that, Ganondorf had dumped Zelda into the cell, and she hadn't seen or heard him since. She heard and smelled of his misdeeds-the cries of the townspeople and the acrid smoke of the burning villages. To save her sanity, Zelda had tried not to think about it, but it was hard. If Ganondorf was not human, at least Zelda was.

The clang of the approaching demons grew louder and Zelda broke out of her sad and disturbing memories. She sat up, feeling the ache of her muscles. She had been sitting for far too long to conserve her strength. She had read about this before: sick people lying too long and growing ill and dying from that rather than the thing that first ailed them. She would try to move about more, she told herself.

The door made a creaking noise as someone (something?) fumbled with it from the outer side. She heard keys jumble, which was different. It put her on alarm. Someone was coming into the cell.

The hinges sighed as the door crept open and the shadow there nearly blocked out the faint oil lamp behind. It was more light than Zelda was used to and she had to squint to look there.

"I've returned," said the figure. "As I promised. Did you miss me?"

Zelda could not recall Ganondorf ever promising to return, though she supposed in her shock he could have said a great many things that never registered with her. He stepped into the cell and closed the door behind him. Zelda made no move to stand or even to acknowledge his presence.

"You must not be cross with me, Zelda," he said, answering the silence. "We are old friends, you and I."

He crossed the cell casually, just as he had entered the destruction of the dining room on their first meeting.

Zelda watched him carefully, pulling the wool ever tighter to her.

"You fear me," he said, observant even in the darkness of the cell. This impressed and terrified her, but she stifled the feelings as best she could, pushing them to the back of her mind. "It is to be expected. I am quite experienced with it."

"What do you want?" Zelda asked. She noted her father had asked the same question shortly before Ganondorf had cut him down. This time, her voice small and weak and totally unlike her father's, which had been strong and commanding.

It was dark, but she was able to register a faint smile growing across his face.

"What do I want?" he asked back. "I never did mention it at the time, but that too is a good question."

He stopped and laughed a hearty, evil laugh.

"It was rude of me not to answer your father," Ganondorf said through his cruel smile. "I shall not make the same mistake this time. What do I want?"

He kneeled down, extending an arm across to the slimy wall. He stopped, hovering just above her tiny frame. A clear intimidation tactic, Zelda knew. She responded with a cool gaze.

"I want power," Ganondorf said. "I want blood and riches."

His free hand reached out and traced her cheek downwards. He plied the woollen cowl away from her hands and opened it slowly to reveal her blood-stained gown. The hand continued down around her chin and neck.

Zelda instinctively drew the wool back around herself, forcing his hand away.

"Some things that are off limits," she said, gripping the wool as tightly as possible.

Ganondorf, undaunted, leaned in closer. "I hunger, Zelda. I want, I need. You cannot possibly stop me."

His words overwhelmed Zelda with fear and she tried to dart up and away from him. She had forgotten how fast he had cut down her father with the giant sword. With a swiftness she was sure had been accentuated by some ungodly power, he seized her. The wall betrayed her and caught the woollen shawl. She was impossibly trapped, much to Ganondorf's pleasure. Despite it all, she used what little energy she could to try and wriggle free. Ganondorf merely watched with hunter's eyes, that same creep of a smile haunting over her.

She frowned back and again he moved with unnatural speed, tilting his head gracefully to cover her mouth with his. The force of his embrace pushed her head backwards until the hood of her woollen cowl flew back exposing her dirty hair to the dirtier cell wall. She began to sink slowly to the floor until his hips and a hand to her exposed throat caught and held her tightly in place.

As the shock of fear wore away, Zelda calmed herself by formulating a battle plan.

She tried to recall her readings. First, she remembered the books on warfare. They had told her to analyze the situation first. She could never contest him physically, this much was clear. She would have to fight him mentally. She conjured the philosophical debates she had come across, of how the physical and the mental could be moved into separate circles. She could banish from her mind the cold of his lips upon hers, the feel of his lust, the pain of the contortions if she simply concentrated. How was she to do this?

Ganondorf drew away for breath, meeting her eyes. She saw in them an endless, unbound energy and, for a moment, felt defeated. How warn she must look compared to him. It was then she heard a single, faint cry. It must have come from one of the far villages, carried over water or open field, amplified by the quiet night. It was the singular cry of a human, a person like herself, caught in an endless nightmare. She thought then not for herself, but for the kingdom. Who was there to care for it, if she should fail?

"You will see it my way, Zelda," Ganondorf said breathlessly. "Soon."

In a way, Zelda could. She could see the power that had enveloped her so easily moments before. With confidence, she closed her eyes peacefully and Ganondorf could feel her body loosen in his grip.

"I see. Good girl," Ganondorf said, smiling hungrily.

He leaned down again to kiss her, slowly, as if to savour his victory. The first kiss had been forceful and hungry. This kiss was gentle and tender and as his lips brushed hers, a small light appeared from nothing.

The light was so sickly and cold at first that Ganondorf, in his reverie, took no notice. As Zelda felt herself fill with the light, her confidence grew, and so did the light, quicker than before.

Finally, Ganondorf was forced to recognize it.

"What is this?" Ganondorf said, releasing Zelda. He backed away and, for the first time, she could see his power wane.

Zelda watched him step back, each move growing her own power ever more.

Ganondorf growled. "You do have it," he said. "Wisdom..."

Zelda allowed herself a knowing smile. Some how she had always known, even as the scholars had explained time and again that the legend of the golden power was a myth. Her faith, and her wisdom, had resurrected it.

Ganondorf took one last stand. "I must have it!" he cried, lunging at her. It was useless, as the light threw him backwards against the cold stone floor.

Defeated for now, Zelda allowed the light to subside. She watched Ganondorf get up slowly, gripping his shoulder. "Witch. I shall have you and the power soon enough," he said, trying his best to draw again on his awesome fear. It was no use, though, as Zelda could clearly see he had been rendered too weak to do so.

He retreated, not once taking his eyes off of her. "I'll be back," he said, and she heard it this time.

It was not until he had long been gone that Zelda allowed her guard down. She slid down the wall slowly, picking up the woollen shawl and wrapping herself in it. She was tired now, and had to rest, but she was sure Ganondorf would not be back for some time.

In the back of her mind, she thought sadly, this was a meaningless victory. She had not really defeated him, merely held off the inevitable. She allowed herself one comfort: next time, she would be ready for him.

END

_I wrote this for a friend. Her prompt was "dinner". I wrote it in two and a half hours, so if you find stuff wrong with it, let me know because I just wrote it and posted it without really re-reading it._


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